


Body Shot

by loudspeakr



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: (hurhur that tag tho), Boys Being Boys, Drunkenness, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/pseuds/loudspeakr
Summary: Rhett relives a certain memory after he gives the wrong answer to a simple question.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by RandL's suspicious response during that interview at the Dirty 30 premiere.

“Have you ever taken a body shot off a stranger?”

He isn't quite sure what led him to say it, if he’s being completely honest.

It could've been any number of things: the line of impatient journalists waiting to get their interviews, the kaleidoscope of camera flashes that seem to follow them no matter where they go or who they attempt to hide behind, Stevie standing at the end of the carpet trying her darnedest to coax them along. (It’s easy to forget sometimes who is whose boss between the three of them.)

Or maybe it's the answer Link chooses for the both of them when they're asked the question, the _first_ question of this silly game, mischief dancing in his eyes as he gives them exactly what they're _not_ looking for.

“Don’t know what that is.” Feigning innocence: Link was always good at that, even when the dishonesty is painfully clear.

Then the microphone is being waved in Rhett’s direction, and suddenly the reason becomes clear: it's the shit-eating grin on Link's face when the question is suddenly turned onto Rhett. 

"Not a stranger."

Oops. Wrong answer.

It’s a lie, despite his validating smirk, and a poorly chosen one at that. And usually he'd be able to laugh this off, skirt around it for the sake of their squeaky-clean image – or so he likes to think – but right now? 

Right now, he's fighting off the onslaught of images that are filling his head, a photographic montage of the night in question. 

 

It began with a very successful meeting at YouTube Space LA, with Link practically, no, _literally_ skipping out to their car in the parking lot and Rhett grinning ear-to-ear in tow behind him, because – after months of writing, brainstorming, and late nights at the office – Buddy System was finally going to be a reality.

That’s how Rhett found himself walking into a bar that night, watching Link magically weave into the crowd of mingling twenty-somethings. He doesn’t usually do this – a quiet night in with a finger of scotch in hand is moreso his style – but they're celebrating, and there isn't much he won't do when he comes to one of Link's indulgent ideas.

"We deserve a drink!" His friend announces when Rhett finally catches up to him. He can feel himself starting to get into it, the thumping beat of whatever song is playing, the electric atmosphere and excitement of being out and about – and _really_ out because they never go _downtown_ to hang out – on a Friday night without the drag of their kids or even their wives. (Rhett loves his Jessie, of course, but she would whoop him over the head if she ever heard him say something like that aloud.)

“Yeah, we do!”

At Rhett’s agreement, Link pushes through the throng of thirsty customers to get to the counter and shoots his hand out frantically to get the bartenders’ attention. One of them glances up at him and looks as if he’s about to make his way over. But at the last second, his attention is caught by a couple of admittedly attractive ladies on the far end.

Link throws his hands up in outrage, huffing.

“Dude, come on,” Rhett shouts over the music, tugging on Link’s sleeve. “Just be patient.”

Something changes in Link’s expression. “Nah, screw this.” He turns and disappears again, leaving Rhett alone at the bar. He panics a little (he’s seen Link get into all kinds of trouble in bars before – granted they’d all happened in their college days, but still) until he sees a familiar swoop of dark hair making its way toward the women they’d just been snubbed for.

Rhett barely makes it over in time to hear Link’s opening line.

“What’re you drink’een?” he drawls, putting on the charm.

Smiling, Rhett scoffs quietly to himself, recognising the thicker southern accent a young Link used to save for his exploits with the fairer sex. He feels an elbow dig firmly into his hip.

One of the women, Asian and petite, offers a reply, her eyes darting up and down. “Tequila and OJ.” Her friend (who is gorgeous, if Rhett’s still being honest) shoots her a not-so-subtle look, but Link is nothing but polite and persistent.

“Ain’t it a bit early for tequila?”

“I’m drinking it with orange juice, aren’t I?” She gives him an alluring laugh.

On another night, Rhett would be rolling his eyes and dragging Link out of there and into a cab. But tonight is special, and he knows this is just Link’s grand scheme to get their drinks quicker, so against his better judgement, he sidles up to the three of them. Link looks at him before clapping a hand to his shoulder.

_Nice of you to join the party, brother._

“This is my friend, James. And I’m Charles.”

“I’m Rose,” the woman offers without missing a beat. “And this is Mel.” At the mention of her name, Mel gives the two of them a smile.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Link says, closing in on the bar. Rhett knows exactly what’s coming. “How about we do tequila the right way?”

It’s been a while since Rhett was last acquainted with tequila, not usually doing well at all with light spirits in general. But as the salt is being shaken onto the back of his hand, his drinking buddies leave him no time to prepare. Link has yelled three, having counted them off, and – _somehow_ – the three of them already have their shots halfway down their gullets, so Rhett hurries and gulps it down without thinking.

He’d forgotten about the burn on the way down, how much that bite of lime helps with the horrible taste, but mostly, he’d forgotten how terrible his aim is when it comes to doing shots.

“James, you’re drenched!” Rose laughs not unkindly, pointing at his soaked beard. Rhett can feel himself turning hot with embarrassment in the face of his amused company, Rose's observation confirmed when he feels the cool liquid on his chin. But before he can blink, Link’s got his fingers on Rhett’s jaw, wordlessly dabbing at his facial hair with a napkin he’s managed to find, eyes crinkling with silent laughter.

As Link leaves briefly to discard it, Rhett thinks he catches the ladies sharing another look, a silent message being passed between them. But it’s gone as soon as Link returns.

Calming down, Mel tears herself from Rose’s side and leans into Rhett. “I think you might need a bit more practise with those.”

“I agree,” Rose nods before yelling for the bartender.

“No, no, I really shouldn’t.”

“You must!”

“You guys go ahead – I’m fine.”

“Come on, man!” Link grabs his shoulder, eyes wild with adrenaline, and shakes. “Let loose a little!”

The look on his face is one Rhett has seen many times in his life, the look of _I want_ _to_ _do this thing,_ _please_ _do it with me_. Not once has Rhett ever refused The Look, and he isn’t about to start now.

Nodding his assent, Rose orders them four more shots. The next one goes down a lot easier – and more accurately – and by the time Rhett has downed his third shot (plus a few beers and scotches), he can’t deny he feels incredible. Invincible, even.

A little while later, Rhett sits wedged between Mel and Link, the four of them having somehow secured themselves some space in the lounge across the room. Link behind him is caught up in what seems to be a riveting conversation about cereal with Rose, leaving Rhett alone to entertain Mel. She’s funny and engaging, but despite the fun he’s having here, he can’t help but be very aware of the way she has her entire leg pressed up against his. He shuffles away a little, trying to give her a hint, but she closes the gap just as quickly as it appears.

In their close quarters, Rhett can feel the warmth radiating through the back of Link’s shirt.

Their waiter returns with another tray of shots, placing it on the plush ottoman before them. Link welcomes him – literally – with open arms.

“Thank you, Charles,” the waiter says good-naturedly, pulling himself out of Link’s grasp and turning to leave them. “James, you best look after this one!”

Rhett isn’t sure how this guy came to know their names – he can’t, for the life of him, remember his – but he yells his thanks anyway before reaching for a glass.

“No,” Rose says, swatting his hand away. She’s impossibly collected for the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s do body shots!”

“Yes!” Squealing, Mel grabs her glass and gets up.

Before he can protest, Rhett watches as Rose lays herself down on the ottoman, hitching her top up to reveal her bare midriff. It all happens so fast: Rose sprinkling salt on herself while Mel places the glass perfectly on her friend’s belly button. Then, in one fluid movement, Mel leans in and takes the glass with her mouth, tilting her head back to swallow it, before putting it down to lick a stripe of salt from Rose’s middle.

“Wow,” Rhett hears Link breathe out beside him, a look of awe on his face as Mel wipes at hers with the back of her hand. She curtsies at Link’s response.

“Okay, guys. Your turn.”

“What?” There’s no trace of mockery in Rose’s voice when she says it, a deadpan look on her face. The world is spinning, and Rhett can’t make it stop. “I thought… I mean, I can’t –“

“I’ll do it!”

Rhett whips his head around so fast he almost falls over where he sits. Through the black spots swimming in his vision, he can see Link already standing with a shot glass in hand, clearly wasted yet still functioning, a dangerous combination if history dictates. He could always hold his alcohol better than Rhett ever could, even with his smaller stature.

“Wait, wha –“

“Yeah! C’mon, man! Le’ss do it!”

Then there are hands on his shirt – he can’t tell whose – and one of his buttons hits him square on the cheek. The cooler air feels good against his chest, enough to have Rhett shutting his eyes to the niceness of it. But the split second of peace is shattered when they pull him up onto shaky legs before shoving him back down again. Rhett lets himself be manhandled, the fight in him having been replaced with pure alcohol. With his feet still planted firmly on the ground, he lands on what feels like a large velvety marshmallow. The visual of himself lying on top of giant confectionary makes him chuckle.

“Quit squirm’een,” comes Link’s voice through the drunken haze, and Rhett obeys, his hands hitting the floor as he goes limp atop the alleged marshmallow.

An odd sensation hits him just above his pec, like sand tickling at his skin, and then a cold smoothness is pressed into his belly button.

“Okay, Charlie! Ya ready?”

Rhett can hear them counting down – _three, two, one_ – and, even though he doesn’t know whether his eyes are open or shut, he swears he can see Link’s elated face in the midst of all the excitement, like a birthday boy about to blow out his candles.

“Go!”

Time slows, and just for a second, it doesn’t feel like anything is actually happening. But then there’s a warm sort of wetness right on the plump of Rhett’s belly, and it stays there for longer than he feels like it should. It stays and then it’s gone, and so is whatever the coldness was – _oh yeah, it was the shot glass_ – before there’s more wetness sliding along his collarbone. It’s deliberately slow and warm and so nice that Rhett’s sure he can feel the hairs on his arms stand on end. (He’ll have to address the situation in his pants when he goes to the bathroom later.)

Then it’s over, and Rhett opens his eyes to hollering and applause, just in time to see Link pull away, his lips shiny with spit or alcohol, one or the other, an empty shot glass in his hand.

“Nice work, boys,” he hears one of the girls say.

But Link’s bloodshot eyes are still trained on Rhett’s, his face coloured with a tinge of something that Rhett has never seen there before.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Mel pass a fiver to Rose.

 

“It was me – he took a body shot off of me!”

Of course it’s Link’s throwaway quip that saves them – or him – for the moment, pulling him out of his daze. The ladies are so caught up in their laughter that they miss the loaded glance Link shoots at Rhett.

_You cheeky bastard._

Just before the screening, Link sends Stevie ahead to claim their seats, pulling Rhett aside. “What was that, man? About the body shot?”

“I don’t know. I panicked.” Rhett shrugs, ignoring the flame in his cheeks.

“At least they didn’t ask us anything more scandalous than that.” Link pats him on the back and heads toward their seats. “Who knows what else you might’ve said, _James_.”

“Ha, yeah,” Rhett stutters out, watching as Link throws him a wink over his shoulder. “Thank god for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry.
> 
> ;)


End file.
